


The Dawn

by Simara



Series: Idioms [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Post-Break Up, Pre-Slash, Unhealthy Relationships, former Harvey Dent/Edward Nygma, weight mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:37:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7704277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simara/pseuds/Simara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always darkest before the dawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dawn

**The Dawn**

“Jonathan? Jonathan, let me in, it’s raining!” The late night visitor kept pounding on the door. “I’m gonna freeze to death out here!” Jonathan opened the door as far as the security chain allowed and thus revealed a truly pathetic scene: Edward Nygma was soaking wet, clothes clinging to his body, water tingling down his face. For a moment, Jonathan thought that he was crying but even though Edward’s eyes were rendered red –  one of them sporting a fading bruise – they shed no tears. Edward made a sound of relief once he recognised Jonathan. “Took you long enough! I already thought you’re not at home.”

“What do you want?”

“How about Sanctuary?” Jonathan furrowed his brow.

“How about no?”

“I’ve got nowhere else to go!”

“Not my problem.” The door closed with a thump. Jonathan went back to his work. No matter what the boy had gotten himself into, it was none of his business and this formula wouldn’t perfect itself.

The rain didn’t cease. Jonathan could hear it taping against the windows, pounding onto the roof. Some twenty minutes later, the first angry growl of a thunderstorm made itself known. Jonathan sighted. He took of his gloves and his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The thunder was getting louder. He glanced at the clock. Halve past three in the morning. Jonathan sealed the sample tubes and finished his notes before rising.

Edward Nygma was still waiting outside when he unlocked the door, sitting on the concrete steps that let up to the abandoned building. 

“Get in before I change my mind.” Edward sprang to his feet at once, rushing past Jonathan and into the make-shift lab. “You’re very welcome”, Jonathan murmured. He followed Edward who, after his primary boost of energy, had come to a stand in the middle of the room, rubbing his numb hands and looking around with a curiosity that felt almost intrusive to Jonathan, who crossed his arms defiantly. “You’ve got to get out of those clothes.”

“You wish,” Edward scoffed, but his shivering frame betrayed him.

“You’ll either undress or I’ll throw you back into the rain. You’re dripping all over the parquet.” Edward shifted under Jonathan’s stare but he couldn’t find it in himself to argue.

“Could you spare a towel?”

“There’s a bathroom over there”, Jonathan pointed towards the general direction. “Towels are in the cupboard on the left. Put your clothes into the drying machine.”

“I could use a shower as well.” Jonathan glared at him.

“Don’t overstay your welcome.” With a roll of his eye, Edward went to the bathroom. Jonathan noticed that Edward was limping slightly. He shook his head in silence. The boy was too sullen to be all right. Something had broken underneath his carefully crafted composure and Jonathan grew more and more certain that Dent had actually made true of his decision and drawn the line. If that was the case, Jonathan should never have opened the door. One moment of weakness would get him dragged into a minefield. He picked his widest shirt and trousers and carried the neatly folded items to the bathroom.

Jonathan didn’t bother to knock before entering. Edward, back turned towards the door, was busy rubbing his hair dry. Jonathan took in the sight of Edward’s bruised body. It reminded him of a Caravaggio painting. The way Edward held his weight indicated that he had indeed hurt his foot, sprained, most likely.

“I’ve found some clothes that might fit you”, he announced, making Edward flinch and turn in surprise. Jonathan had expected him to be more bashful about his nakedness but Edward merely lowered the towel enough to regain some privacy and extended a hand towards the clothes.

“Thanks. I guess.” Edward smiled at him but his eyes seemed tired. Jonathan nodded and retreated. He wasn’t sure why on earth he had gotten involved at all.

It didn’t take Edward long to get dressed. Jonathan had come to stand by the window and turned around once he heard the bathroom door open. Edward, by no means short, had been forced to roll up both sleeves and trouser legs and still managed to look lost in Jonathan’s clothes. The shirt’s buttons where tight across his chest, unaccustomed to be worn by someone who actually managed to fill it. Despite being fully clothed, Edward was still visibly shivering. Jonathan handed him a blanket.

“Here. Better to cover that pitiful sight.” Edward took it and dropped himself onto an armchair.

“Please don’t try to be funny. I don’t think I can take that today.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious. You look like a chewed-through, drowned rat.”

“Charming as always, Professor. You sure know how to make someone feel flattered.”

“Flattery has never been among my priorities. Would you like something to put onto your sprained ankle? I want you ready to leave by sunrise.” Edward blinked.

“You’re kicking me out, then?” Jonathan smiled coldly.

“I did significantly reduce the chance that you will die of pneumonia out of the kindness of my heart. I don’t see what else you could want from me.” Edward faltered somewhat.

“Fine.”

“Fine what?”

“Fine, I’d like to have something to put on my ankle, Professor Crane”, Edward said, making a show out of each, bitter word.

“Very well. Put your foot onto the couch, will you?” Edward complied. The fact that he didn’t complain made Jonathan weary. His suspicion seemed to be correct. He actually tried not to cause any more pain as he put the lotion onto Edward’s ankle. “Tell me, how did you manage to cause this damage?” Edward shifted uncomfortably under Jonathan’s touch.

“I kicked a wall.” Jonathan raised an eyebrow. He was honestly surprised.

“You did what?”

“I kicked a goddamn wall.”

“Why would you do that?” Edward shrugged.

“I was angry.”

“That’s obviously a very sane reason to sprain ones own ankle.”

“If it’s any consolation”, Edward murmured, “I didn’t do it on purpose. Made it a pain to get here, though.” Jonathon put the lotion aside and gave Edward an ill-humoured look.

“How did you even know where I live?”

“Tracked your phone.”

“I knew it was a bad idea to get one”, Jonathan murmured begrudgingly. “I’m going to bed now.” He added while getting up. “Don’t break anything.” Edward seemed startled by the prospect of being left alone. For a split second, Jonathan thought that Edward was going to tell him something important but all he said was:

“I hate to sleep on the couch.”

“Well, there’s still room on the doorsteps if it bothers you all too much.” With that, Jonathan left Edward in the make-shift living room.

Edward was gone when Jonathan woke the next morning and he was almost surprised that none of his possessions had vanished with him. This, Jonathan thought, was truly suspicious. He would have been less irritated if Edward had still been lying there, or had at least raided the fridge before leaving. Jonathan tried not to think too much about this uncharacteristic behaviour though, and returned his attention to the formula he had worked on the night before.

The day passed like most days Jonathan spend working on his toxin did: Too quickly.  Midnight had already passed when he finally left his chemicals be. There was an ache in his neck and back, an unwelcome reminder of the fact that his body was less fond of hovering over a desk for hours on end then him. Jonathan rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly when something unusual happened: His phone started ringing. For a moment or two, Jonathan only starred at it, accusingly. Then, he finally picked it up.

“Yes?”

“Professor Crane?” The voice sounded painfully familiar.

“Cobblepot? Is that you? How in heaven’s name did you get this number?”

“A mutual friend was kind enough to provide it.” Jonathan furrowed his brow.

“I don’t have any friends”, he said bluntly.

“I’d like to disagree. How long will it take you to get here?”

“It’s two AM. I don’t intend to go anywhere right now.”

“As you please, Professor. But be aware that Edward Nygma will leave this establishment with one gentleman or another and I’d rather have it be someone who won’t take advantage of the 19 tequila shots he had.”

“Why on earth are you telling me this?”

“It was your name and address he gave, when the waitress asked if he had a place to stay.”

“Typical”, Jonathan hissed between his teeth, already reaching for his coat. “Make sure he’s still there in about twenty minutes.” He hung up without waiting for a response and called a cab. He hadn’t properly reprimanded anyone since his dismissal from Gotham State University but he felt certain that he wasn't too out of practice to tear Edward to pieces. Verbally, that is. At least for now.

When Jonathan arrived at the Iceberg Lounge, he was immediately led to one of the back-rooms by a burly security guard. The man nodded towards the door before returning to his post. Jonathan entered and admired how consistently tasteless this establishment was. Cobblepot would really have to work on the colour scheme if he wanted to turn this into a successful business. This room’s particular shade of blue was even lighter than that of the main rooms and created a strange contrast to Edward’s green attire.

Edward Nygma was as of the moment of Jonathan’s arrival busy talking to a rather pitiable waitress. The girl- Jonathan recognised her now, she used to take one of his classes, a bright girl, what a shame that her family couldn’t afford to support her- seemed tired but tried her best to look sympathetic as Edward complained.

“I hate alcohol”, Edward murmured, leaning against her. “It’s overprized, glamorized poison.”

“There, there”, she said, petting his arm with a weary expression. “I’m sure it’s gonna be alright.”

“You’ve got the bluest eyes…” He leaned in, trying to kiss her, but she gave him a firm shove in the chest.

“Trust me, you’ve got enough to regret in the morning, and I’ve seen where that mouth has been tonight.”

“Riddle me this, then-“

“Please, Mr. Nygma, my shift has been over for twenty minutes already.”

“Just one more Riddle-” The young woman entangled her apron from his fingers.

“Mr. Nygma, I-” Jonathan took pity on her.

“Good Evening, Megan. How do you do?” She sighted in relief when she heard his voice.

“Quite well, Professor Crane, thank you very much. Please tell me you’re here to take him home.”

“I apologise for your troubles.” A memory stirred. “Tell me, isn’t it finals week?” She blushed somewhat. Weirdly enough, he could still make her feel like the freshman she once was.

“Yes it is, Professor. But bills don’t really care about that, do they? And this club sure is on the rise…” Jonathan’s jaw clenched.

“How much does Edward owe?”

“Oh, he did pay! Most of his drinks were someone else’s treat, anyway.” Jonathan took out a fifty dollar note none the less.

“A tip”, he said, as he handed it to her. “And now you’d better go home. I expect nothing less than perfection from you.” Megan laughed.

“No pressure there. Thank you Professor.”

Edward didn’t put up much resistance when Jonathan grabbed him by the arm.

“Where are we going?”

“That’s your least concern, believe me.” Edward flinched at his tone.

“I don’t-“

“You have the audacity to steal my private number and hand it out to whoever’s asking without even giving a single thought to the consequences this might have for me.” Edward tried to get out of Jonathan’s grip now, but his captor had only gotten started. “I've let you into my laboratory when you came whining like some stray kitten. I shouldn’t have. All you ever do is make demands- I should have let you drown in your self-pity, we would both have been better off.” They had left the Lounge by now. The cab driver was still waiting, smoking a cigarette. Edward refused to take another step. His eyes fixed themselves on Jonathan’s.

“Why didn’t you, then?” He grabbed Jonathan by the collar of his jacket. “I could have gone home with anyone, if I’d wanted to.” Jonathan scoffed.

“You should thank me for saving what’s left of your dignity. I start to understand why Dent got tired of you.” Edward made a half-hearted attempt to slap him, but Jonathan caught him by the wrist.

“Fuck you”, Edward hissed and shoved Jonathan, staggering, too drunk to coordinate his movements properly. Jonathan grabbed both of Edward’s hands. His voice was a little too calm when he said:

“Try that again and the next thing you’ll do will be waking up in my laboratory, screaming in terror.” Edward starred at him.

“You hate me”, he said. A deep sadness had settled into his voice. Jonathan sighted.

“I don’t hate you, Edward. I wouldn’t have come if I did.” Edward fell into his arms without warning. Jonathan patted his back somewhat helplessly.

“I’m already afraid, Jonathan”, Edward mumbled into his shoulder. “I’d be a boring subject.”

“Come on now. The cab is waiting.” Jonathan freed himself from Edward’s embrace and led the way. He managed to get Edward into the cab without further intimacies. Edward insisted to put his head back onto Jonathan’s shoulder once they sat, though.

“You’ve lost weight again”, Edward commented, accusingly. “You’re bony.”

“And you smell of alcohol and other people’s aftershave. Let’s agree that this isn’t pleasurable for either of us.”

“I’m dizzy.”

“Suits you right.” Edward lifted his head off Jonathan’s shoulder.

“Can’t you at least pretend to be my friend? Just for tonight?” Jonathan scoffed.

“You are drunk, Edward, drunk and clingy. Dent must really have messed with your head.”

“I’m not clingy. I’m only insuring that I get the affection I deserve. As for drunk-” The cab drove through a pothole. Edward closed his eyes in agony. “Well, okay I can’t really argue against that.” Jonathan watched him carefully. This was a rather unique opportunity. The alcohol had lowered his guard to an extent Jonathan had never witnessed in Edward. He thought back to the last couple of times he had... tested Edward’s reaction to various mental and chemical influences. It would be a lie to say that he hadn’t enjoyed those experiences. And yet he couldn’t help but feel that taking advantage of Edward in this state would be too easy, almost like… well, to say it in Edward’s words: Like cheating. Still, there was one question he couldn’t help but pose.

“May I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“You said that you are afraid, back at the Lounge. It has to be something new, something specific or you wouldn’t have mentioned it.” Edward shrugged, sinking deeper into the seat.

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“It does to me. Professional curiosity, if you will.”

“I’m afraid of a great many things.” He answered vaguely. “And you could name more of them than me.” Jonathan smiled at that half-hearted evasion.

“That might be true.” He would get his answer sooner or later.

The cab slowed down. Jonathan paid before helping Edward out of the car. It was a bit of a struggle to get to the door since Edward seemed to have left most of his motor skills at the bottom of a Tequila bottle but they managed to get inside without breaking anything none the less.

Edward sprawled himself over the couch, legs dangling over the armrest, as soon as Jonathan had locked the door behind them.  

“How do you even have a key for this dump? It’s not like it’s your house, is it?” Jonathan clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“I bought this building.”

“That’s ordinary.” 

“It’s called making useful investments. You should try it sometime.” He glanced at the pitiful sight that was Edward Nygma. “Once you get a grip on yourself.” Edward gave Jonathan a fleeting look, before directing his attention towards the ceiling. Jonathan’s eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“You’ve worked as an _actual_ psychologist, haven’t you?” Edward didn’t wait for an answer. He kept starring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes as he continued: “Tell me- I’ve always wondered- Is it a lie? The whole ‘it get’s better’ thing?” Jonathan sighted.

“Move over, will you?” Edward shifted enough to make room for both of them and Jonathan sat down next to him. “Yes, it will get better.” Edward sat up with so much vigour that Jonathan almost lost his balance.

“But it hurts”, Edward stressed. Jonathan couldn’t help but notice how young being drunk made him look. The ever present mask had shattered to pieces and left a raw nerve. Edward was intoxicated, exposed, and vulnerable. All Jonathan had to do to make him fully break- _No_ , he told himself, hushing his… professional instincts, _not tonight. We’ve been over this already. He is a different kind of patient._

“Go on.”, he said. “Tell me. I’ll listen.” Edward froze for a moment, then went on to hug his arms close.

“We had a fight”, he started, choosing the words with more care than Jonathan would have suspected him to have left. “Nothing big, just… I was working on a scheme of my own, a museum heist, and he didn’t think-“, Edward interrupted himself. “He hit me. I… smashed a lamb over his head.” He glanced at Jonathan who nodded encouragingly. “It… escalated. He’d never… beaten me that badly. He was devastated.” Jonathan tried his best to stay professional and not interrupt. The words seemed to be bursting out of Edward now. “I was so angry. At him, because he promised things would change. At me for believing it. At you, because you called it. At the whole stupid world because I’m supposed to be _better_ than this. And--- You know what’s funny?” He didn’t pause. “It should have been me. _I_ should have left _him_. I should have told him that--- Riddle me this:” His hands grasped Jonathan’s and the sudden touch made Jonathan flinch. “What’s taken and broken, forsaken, bespoken whenever it tries to reach for the stars?” Wide-eyed, drunk Edward Nygma clang to him as though he was a lifeline. It didn’t bother him as much as it should.

“You’re _not_ broken, Edward. An awful poet, granted, but not broken.” Edward went sullen.   

“I’ve never been whole”, he murmured, letting go of Jonathan’s hand. “And I shouldn’t be here.” He got up, staggered slightly, but managed to make it to the door despite his dizziness. Jonathan watched him carefully. He wasn’t quite sure why he spoke up:

“Wait. You can stay for the night.” Edward stopped cold, turning his head towards Jonathan.

“What could you possibly gain from that?” There was an underlying accusation, a bitterness that Jonathan chose to ignore. He got up and joined Edward at the door, laying his hand on Edward’s shoulder.

“You are more than the people who have hurt you.” Edward all but leaned into his touch.

“I keep running into people who treat me just like my father did.” It seemed as though he was talking to himself but Jonathan could hear every word. _There it is_ , Jonathan thought, storing the information away like a precious jewel. “I wonder if that means that he was right all along.”

“Edward”, Jonathan’s suddenly sharp tone caused Edward to jump. “I’m telling you this as a psychologist: You have survived severe childhood abuse. The human mind has different ways of coping with such events and yours… but I digress. The import thing is that it’s not unusual for someone like you to have such thoughts, but there is no truth behind them.” Edward blinked at him.

“The last time I trusted you, you dosed me with toxin.” Jonathan’s lips twitched at the memory.

“I’m not going to hurt you tonight.”

“I’m not going to trust you either.” Edward responded, burying his face in Jonathan’s shoulder. “My head hurts. I think I might have a concussion.”

“Unlikely. You need to sleep now”, he led Edward back to the couch. “You’ll have the worst hangover in the morning.”

“I’m not _that_ drunk”, came the mumbled response. Jonathan picked up a pillow and blanket and handed them to Edward. 

“Excellent self-assessment, as always. Good Night.” Edward leaned closer, giving Jonathan what seemed to be a well-rehearsed look.

“Don’t you want to stay and…” His fingers brushed Jonathan’s upper thigh. He froze when he saw the cold expression in Jonathan’s face and pulled his hand back as though he’d burnt himself. “Never mind”, he murmured, eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion. Jonathan rose and left Edward to his demons.

The first thing that Edward saw when he woke was a glass of water, waiting for him on the coffee table. He blinked and grimaced as he remembered where he was. The world spun as he sat up. He was nauseous. Only after he’d swallowed the painkiller laid out next to the glass and had gulped down the water it occurred to him, that Crane might as well have set this up to poison him but really, what were the odds? Edward ran his fingers through his hair, wincing slightly when he accidently touched an old bruise. He’d thought a few drinks might numb what he felt but instead it had just made him feel even more miserable.

Edward didn’t hear Jonathan enter, but managed not to flinch as his host addressed him without further greeting:

“You’re ready to leave, as I see.” Something in Edward’s stomach clenched.

“What- Right now?”

“I don’t see why not. You can’t hide and grieve forever.”

“What _should_ I do, then?”

“Rent a room, have a good cry. Pull off that robbery you’ve been planning. You’ll feel better eventually.” Edward gave him a strangely thoughtful look.

“Maybe I will. It is due time to remind them that I don’t need anyone’s help to bring the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ to his knees.” Jonathan nodded approvingly.

“That’s the spirit. Good bye, Edward.” He opened the door for Edward before adding: "By the way… Do you remember what you told me last night?” Edward’s expression was answer enough. “Good. Don’t insult me by assuming I wouldn’t use it against you.”

As he watched the younger man leave, he felt oddly satisfied. There was something about Edward that seemed to Jonathan like a diamond in the rough. Oh sure, the boy could be painfully annoying in his false arrogance but if he matured somewhat, Jonathan mused, Edward had the potential to be counted among the most dangerous people on this very earth. To know, to have seen, both Edward’s ripe potential and his crippling doubts and fears had always been pleasing to Jonathan and the last two days had certainly added a layer to their acquaintanceship that might turn out to be quite interesting indeed.

He would have to acquire a new phone, though. Just to be sure.


End file.
